McBride
by Detectiveknowitall
Summary: The way things played out in Ireland, according to my imagination told from Fiona's POV.
1. Smooth Criminal

When I entered the pub in Dublin, I expected nothing less than to be left alone. As always. Everytime I'd been there before, I'd been left alone. No one dared approach me with a look on my face that spells out 'fuck you' as clearly as possible. Not to mention the man I'd been hanging around didn't look like the sharing type. Kyle was his name. That was the only thing about him that I remembered well. An unremarkable, forgetable man. Just someone that appeased my boredom.  
I spared him a slick cheek peck as I passed him, almost feeling bad for him. He looked like he understood, as he had earlier that day when I explained that he needed to stop calling me. Telling him that the sun had officially set on our day in the sun. Kyle was fine. Not in the looks sense of the word. I guess he looked fine. I guessed he was ok. Nothing great about his body or face. Nothing great about his job or car. Nothing great about his sense of humor or personality. The poor man didn't have a lick of tactical awareness... but he was ok... I guess. I slid past his friends at the pool table and made my way to the jukebox. I was skimming through hard rock options when I sensed him approaching. I didn't react as to not scare him away. Instead, I continued my scroll and acted as casual as possible until his shadow loomed over me.  
"Would you like to dance?" I could smell the Guinness on his breath as it ghosted through my hair. But unlike Kyle, the alcohol on this man's irish tongue felt warm and inviting.  
I ignored the goosebumps on my arms and pulled a gun on him, turning to jam it into his ribs and face him as intimidatingly as possible. Before I could speak, a smile tugged at the corner of his inviting lips.  
"I'll take that as a yes...?" He chuckled smoothly.  
I smirked and watched him guide the firearm back into my waistband and take my hands in his. Smooth criminal was the only thing that came to mind as I stared into his light blue eyes.  
"Michael McBride." His deep voice made my chest clench.  
"Fiona Glenanne." I answered. "Mr McBride, if you knew what was good for you, you'd be leaving me be."  
"It's Michael." He whispered. "And maybe I don't care what good for me."  
"Ok, then..." I reeled at his words, mentally noting Kyle and his goons getting to their feet at the sight off Michael and I dancing slowly. "It looks like my friend will be joining us."  
"He'll leave us be, I think." He sounded as if he didn't care one way or another.  
"If you were smart, McBride, You'd not be talking about it all willy nilly."  
"It's Michael... and maybe if your little friend was smart, He'd be leaving us be."  
I looked over and spoke to Kyle as he approached us. "Kyle, there won't be any trouble between the two of ya. You hear me?"  
Kyle stopped and looked at Michael as he spoke. "Less than an hour Fiona? One man to another. Just like that?"  
I shrugged. "You want trouble, we can have trouble, but you've got no business with McBride, You understand me?"  
"Is he mute?" Kyle smirked. "Let the man speak for himself."  
"Mcbride." I warned as Michael dropped my hand and turned to Kyle.  
In a smooth, flick of his wrist, he had Kyle on his knees, yelling in pain from what looked to be a dislocated wrist. Michael held his injured wrist at an odd angle and made eyes at me, muttering. "It's Michael."  
I smirked.  
"Shall I break it then?" He asked, slightly amused.  
"Not necessary." I shrugged again.  
"Get lost then." Michael muttered at Kyle. "As soon as the lady changes her mind, I can appease her."  
Kyle and his hoodlums scampered off to leave michael to turn to me slowly. He assessed my expression carefully. I sighed heavily and placed one hand on his chest, dragging him by his shirt out the back door to the dark alleyway.  
"Fiona." He whispered into the night.  
"You spoil me." I pressed him against the grimy brick wall and kissed his chest, standing on my tip toes to reach his neck. "I thought it was my winning smile." He held me by my arms and smirked.  
I was getting the feeling he was holding back on me... not only not kissing me back, but also, smoothly holding my body at an angle so I couldn't continue my onslaught of sloppy smooches on his collar.  
"You know... McBride..."  
He interupted "Michael"  
"Michael..." I smirked. "Violence... in some cultures... is considered... foreplay."  
He laughed out loud.  
"It's not that funny." I smiled up at him.  
"You make me laugh"  
I lifted an eyebrow, content to stare into his eyes for the moment. "You made my laugh." He repeated, using a different word. "So, I did."  
We stood there in silence for a moment until his expression grew serious. "I wonder about you, Fiona Glenanne."  
"What about me?"  
He grabbed my hand and started leading me towards the lot of parked cars. "All of it."  
I smiled, but faultered, looking at the truck we were approaching. "Are... you... okay to drive?"  
He turned to face me, smiling openly. "Would you like to test me?"  
His eyes were clear and not glassy at all. "No... I think I trust you." I paused. "Should I trust you?"  
He laughed once. "God No! Never trust anyone."  
I laughed, then met his gaze once more.  
"Shall we?" He asked.  
"We shall." I agreed, climbing into the passenger seat.  
He pumped the heat in the cab of the truck and asked me strange questions about myself the whole drive to his apartment. The midnight air felt electric as I jumped from the truck to the gravel. "What your favorite food, Michael McBride?"  
"Fettucinni and truffles." He held my hand, Leading me to the elevator.  
I gaped at him. "Mine too!"  
"Really?" He didn't seem as surprised as I was to find something in common with me.  
"Have you had the alfredo dish at Ole Ma's"  
"Of course." He smiled. "Its the best in northern Ireland"  
I looked at him like he had changed my life. "When did you visit Belfast?"  
"I live in Belfast." He laughed at my surprise. "This is just a loaner for a couple months."  
I walked in after him, following him to the kitchen. "How did that come about?"  
"I had to leave Belfast for a bit."  
I smirked, knowingly. "Oh... a little heat on ya, is there?"  
He smiled back, pouring me a glass of wine. "Yeah. Gotta get them off my back for a bit so I asked a friend if I could come down to Dublin for 6 months until the heat lets up."  
"Not the authorities?"  
He shook his head, pulling out a yogurt and offering me one. I shook my head.  
"So, then who do you owe money to?" I asked.  
"Nobody really." He grabbed a spoon and dug it into the blueberry yogurt. "I actually just sold a weapon to person A who used it to kill person B and now person B's associates have tracked down person A and he ratted on me like the bastard that he is, so now person A is dead. Person B is dead. And person B's associates are looking for me."  
I blinked. "What makes you think that is something you should admit unilatterally to a girl you've just met?"  
"I've a strong hunch you and I share the same job."  
I blinked. "I don't follow."  
"I've heard of a Glenanne who deals in big bad weapons to big bad boys."  
I finished my wine and accepted the water bottle he offered. "That's Sean."  
He started making a sandwich.  
I was shocked at myself that I had just offered up that information. "I..."  
He sensed my shock and turned to face me. "Don't be afraid, Fiona. Your secret is safe with me."  
I blinked. "I don't know why I just shared that."  
He shrugged. "Not worth losing sleep over. I'd have found it out eventually."  
I accepted the sandwich he offered and nearly finished it in three bites. "Why's that?"  
He crowded me against the counter and inhaled my scent. "You didn't think this was the last you'd see of me, did you?"  
I smirked. "Oh.. a girl could hope."  
I regarded me seriously. "I'm not done with you yet, Fiona Glenanne."  
"That's good, Michael McBride because I too... am not done with you."

We talked well into the night, eventually making our way to the couch where he told me about jobs he'd done as an arms dealer. I was smitten by his tough hands and deep voice as well as his smooth criminal behavior and his well mussed hair. By the time morning sun shone through the livingroom window, I was sure of my feelings and I was sure of his. Michael McBride was gonna be the death of me. My past had been fun and he'd asked me about my past, but I didn't feel the need to elaborate on the past because of how much I was sure of our future. He eventually dismissed me with a polite kiss on the cheek and his phone number in my phone. I'd texted him immediately so he would have mine.  
I actually wanted him to have mine. I wanted Michael to text me. I missed him already while sitting in my uber.  
'Let me know when you arrive home safely, so I can sleep' Michael's text made me blush.  
'Can you not sleep without knowing I'm safe, then? Isn't it too soon for us to be so attached?' I replied quickly.  
'I don't know the meaning of the words too soon. What I do know is that my mindset is heavily relying upon your wellbeing, so, kindly be careful'  
'I shall do as you ask, Michael McBride. I wouldn't want to cause a lack of sleep to come to you.'  
'You can help me not sleep in other ways.' He caught onto my reference.  
'I'll bet I could.'  
'I'd bet more."  
I smiled at my phone and didn't respond until my uber pullled into my apartment. "Thank you." I slipped out and let myself into my front door.  
I was about to text Michael when Cheeto began screaming. My cat had aparently been waiting for dinner since the night before and I felt awful. I laid down his newly filled dish and changed his water. "Sorry, Cheeto."  
I collaped into bed, feeling the effects of the alcohol after no longer being in Michael's intoxicating presence. After 10 minutes of staring at the ceiling, I was sure I wasn't going to be able to get any sleep yet, so I turned in the shower and began undressing. I was interrupted by my phone ringing in the other room. I ran in and answered, already apologizing.  
"Michael! I forgot. I'm sorry." His relief was heard in his sigh. "Oh thank God."  
I was silent for a few moments, realizing he was being truthful about my safety affecting his mindset. "That is an unhealthy amount of concern."  
"I think it's a completely healthy amount of concern."  
I shook my head. "Go to sleep, Michael."  
"You too, Fiona."  
I smiled and hung up.  
"I love you." I whispered after I was sure the line was dead.  
That was 8 months before he vanished. 


	2. My Own White Knight

It was 2 weeks later when I finally agreed to see Michael again. It wasn't that I didn't want to see him. It was just that I had a lot going on with my job and helping Sean. I didn't have time to make for Michael, But after 2 weeks of him dropping several hints of me being a workaholic, I gave in and agreed to meet him for lunch the following Monday.  
It was Friday night and Michael wasn't responding to my text right away, meaning he was busy. I was helping Sean with a job by meeting his buyers so he could be in Grennech for another meet. The first hint that something was off was Michaels abrupt response after I mentioned doing Sean a favor.  
'A favor?' He texted. 'What kind of favor?'  
'Can I help with the favor?' He immediately sent several texts.  
'Is it safe?'  
'You should ditch the favor and meet me for a late dinner tonight.'  
I laughed, a little suspicious of his erratic behavior.  
'What is happening right now?' I asked.  
'There's just been a lot of crime lately and I don't want you out and about tonight.'  
'Is that right? Well, don't you suppose I could take care of myself?'  
'Fiona, I'm serious. Whatever it is you're about to do, please dont do it.'  
'What are you saying, Michael?'  
'Tell Sean you're sick.'  
'I'm not.'  
'Please.'  
'Michael, you're being weird right now.'  
'I'm just worried. I saw a girl on the news who got attacked. She looks just like you and it just has me really worried. It's Friday night. You're alone. Just let Sean do his thing and you mind your business.'  
I thought about it, laughing as I arrived at the meeting.  
"Hello, Fiona." Armand greeted me warmly as I stepped out of my car to meet him.  
"Armand. You look well."  
"As do you. And its unfortunate isn't it?"  
I narrowed my eyes at him as his men surrounded me. "Armand. We've known each other for a long time."  
"Yes, and its unfortunate that Sean sent his baby sister to do a man's job isnt it?"  
The men hand cuffed and blindfolded me. "Such a pity." He commented as I was stuffed into a trunk.

I had been knocked out for at least an hour before I recognized voices speaking in spanish. I was in a trunk and the car was stopped. I could tell that much. I listened to the voices and heard one of them say "You go get the snacks and I'll go pee. Hurry. Armand wants us to meet him in an hour"  
I waited until the voices were further away and then used all my strength to kick out the tail light. It took a few tries but when it was finally done, it waas simply a matter of shimmying through the opening. I was grateful for this not being the first time I'd been in a truck or else it might be the last anyone ever heard from me. However this wasn't my first rodeo, so I was calm cool and collected as I slipped my blindfold and took off running into the woods.  
I ran as hard and fast as I could for as long as I could until I came across a road. The first street sign I saw, I walked back into the woods and started walking parallel to the road in hopes of coming across civilization while not getting spotted by any passing cars. I was starting to feel like I didn't know where I was or when it was because the street names were completely unfamiliar. When I saw one called BlindPass road, I stopped and started running North on it. I'd been on that road before. It was the first thing I'd recognized in miles and I was increasingly exhausted. Blind Pass Apartments was lit up in the distance and I began crying in relief. Michael would help. He would know what to do. I made a beeline for his door and knocked with my knee as my hands were still cuffed. I was several minutes before I knocked again. No answer. I sighed and went around to the balconies under his. I used the metal rails as leverage and forced my feet between me and the bar, pressing as hard as I could until the cuffs broke apart, dislocating my shoulder in the process. I screamed in pain and hurriedly climbed to his balcony using my good arm. It was all I could do to break the lock on the glass door on his balcony. It was the least of my worries. I wasn't expecting there to be a gun on the coffee table. I was grateful, though. Seeing as the night had not turned out as I had hoped, I was relieved that michael had a firearm out and handy. I picked it up and noted the excruciating pain radiating from my still dislocated shoulder.  
"Think, Fiona." I spoke to myself, sitting on the couch.  
The door busted open and I jumped, holding the gun out at the intruder. Michael had a gun in his hand as well, but seeing my scared expression, immediately placed it in his waistband and regarded me with his hands up.  
"Fiona. Sweetie."  
I breathed out.  
"Put the gun down." He took a careful step forward.  
"I'm sorry." I apologized but didn't set the firearm down, still scared. "I'm just... my night... you were right..."  
He continued slowly and carefully stepping toward me with his hands up. "Fiona. It's ok. Just put the gun down."  
"I'm scared." I whispered.  
Michael nodded. "I've never spoken those words before. I'm scared. I don't know why."  
He nodded again, now face to face with me, grabbing the gun and pointed it toward the wall while twisted it gently out of my hands. He set it on the coffee table and offered his open arms to me.  
"My arm." I said. "Its dislocated. Please help."  
He nodded and guided me to the bedroom. "I can do that."  
"Shouldn't we go to the Dr?" I spoke, feeling a little high.  
"No. The men who grabbed you. They will know if you show up at a hospital." He pointed at the bed. "Lay down and I'll fix it."  
I nodded. "How did you know?"  
"You stopped responding, so I checked your snapchat location and your phone was on the ground at an abandoned warehouse. I remembered you had mentioned Sean being an arms dealer and you said you were doing him a favor. I put the pieces together. It wasn't that difficult."  
I laid down and tried to calm down. "No."  
"No?"  
"You knew something would happen."  
"I worried something might."  
"But then something did." I explained, flinching when he gently touched my hand.  
"I'm sorry." He said, very sincerely. "I really am. This is gonna hurt, sweetie."  
I nodded. "I know. Don't try to distract me, McBride."  
He sighed. "My name is Michael." He snapped my arm back into place.  
I screamed in pain. "I'm so fucking sorry." He winced, hugging me tightly.  
I sighed heavily, calming myself. "Michael, how did you know?"  
"I didn't" He said. "Honest, Fiona."  
"Honest, Michael."  
We stared at each other for a long time. He leaned down over me and I stopped breathing. He touched the back of his hand to my cheek and narrowed his eyes at me. "Can I tell you something Fiona?" He whispered, inches from my face.  
"Anything" I whispered back, smoothing my hand over his shoulders softly.  
"I think I love you, Fiona Glenanne"  
I smiled. "I think I love you too, Michael Mc-" He kissed me before I could finish.  
He pulled back and smiled. "Just Michael."  
I kissed him again and pulled him down on top of me. He used his forearms to balance on the bed and shimmied his hips between my legs. I laughed at his soft lips, making their way down my chest. "God." He sighed, unbuttoning my shirt.  
I helped him remove the shirt by lifting my shoulders. "Michael, I don't want you to think I'm a missionary style lover... but... I can't move."  
He continued kissing my neck and collar bone. "Whatever you say, Fiona."  
I laughed. "I just need you to know... next time I'm on top and I'm gonna blow your mind."  
"Thats fine, Fi." He said, laughing a little, sounding far away.  
"You okay?"  
"Sure, fi."  
"Michael?"  
He stopped. "what's wrong?"  
"What wrong with you?"  
He sighed and sat back on his heels. "I just... I thought I was gonna lose you... tonight..."  
I sat up to console him.  
"When I saw your phone on the ground..." He shook his head. "I thought I'd never get the chance to tell you that I loved you. I thought you would die unaware of my feelings."  
"I'm ok." I reminded him. "Can I ask you something?"  
"Anything."  
"How did you know?"  
He laughed lightly. "Fiona."  
"You arent as slick as you think."  
"I don't think I'm slick at all."  
"Michael, whats going on? I know something is off. I don't know what it is."  
"Do you want to spend the night?"  
I sighed. "I don't know where else to go."  
He pulled back the quilt and tucked me in. "Sleep Fiona. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is off. Everything is fine. I love you. Thats it."  
I nodded. "Thank you."  
"You're welcome."  
He tried to pull away.  
"Stay with me." I pulled him back into bed behind me.  
"Ok. I'll stay." He formed his body to fit mine perfectly from behind. "Sleep now, Fiona. I'll protect you. Always."  
That was 7 months before he vanished.


	3. She's not me

McBride helped Sean and I track down Armand and his men and took them down. The goons were set up to get caught by the police while Armand was shot in the street. Michael, coincidentally a couple blocks away, laying prone, atop a sniper rifle. Crazy how things happen. Crazy how sexy McBride was, laying on a sniper rifle. All the time, but the image of him perching there, waiting for Armand was attractive. When I saw him set up, I couldn't stay focused. I stared at his jacket for a long time until he pulled it off. Opting for comfort over protection from the elements. The sun beat on his exposed neck and he used a bandana to drape over it.  
I was satisfied to see the men put away for life, but McBride's fear that after they were releasesd they would come after me led us to believe killing Armand was only option. Sean was more than happy to oblige. He was already liking Michael and he didn't like Armand anyway, then hated him considering what he put me through.  
Sean liked Michael. I could tell as he regarded him with a smile, helping him pack up the sniper into a bag.  
"Don't trust him." He whispered to me after Michael was out of earshot.  
My eyes snapped to Sean. "What are you going on about?"  
"Call it intuition." He rubbed my shoulder softly. "It's just too good. He knows too much in too little time. He didn't meet you by accident, Fiona. That man did his research. I don't know how or why. Don't trust him."  
I nodded softly and then got into the passenger side of Sean's car. After a second, my mind changed and I got out, turning to Sean. "I trust him. It might be a mistake... but he is a good person. Better than me and certainly better than you." I stalked away to join Michael in his truck instead.  
"Decided you weren't gonna hear it from Sean, did ya?" Michael smirked at my firey expression as we pulled out of the parking garage he had killed a man on top of moments earlier.  
"I did." My eyes snapped to him in frustration. "And I won't be hearing it from you, either, McBride." I paused and shook my head.  
"Understood."  
I took a deep steadying breath and pressed on. "Why didn't you tell me not to call you that?"  
"What?"  
"I called you McBride, Michael."  
He shrugged. "It's not the time. I guess."  
"No."  
"No?" He looked at me, confused.  
"Fight back." I demanded.  
His expression looked like he was afraid of me.  
"Michael McBride, Tell me the truth."  
He sighed and shook his head. "How are you feeling?"  
I Laughed one humorless laugh. "Don't ask me that. Don't change the subject. Don't distract me with that slick irish tongue. Tell me, McBride."  
His teeth ground together in frustration. "Tell you what, Glenanne?"  
"Oh, real cute."  
"It seems like thats the game, isn't it?" He said with malice, pulling into his apartment. "You call me by my last name and I change the subject so now I'm calling you by your last name and you can try to change the subject."  
"I want to go home." I crossed my arms across my chest.  
"Good one." He spat. "I thought you wanted to talk about it."  
"Fuck you, McBride." I turned to face him in the cab. "I've been nothing but nice and understanding and thats not me."  
He laughed.  
"Don't laugh at me, McBride. You might get your teeth knocked in."  
He stopped and gestured toward his apartment. "You want to take this argument indoors or you wanna continue screaming in the parking lot?"  
I sealed my lips and stalked up to his door, not waiting for him before pulling a bobby pin out of my hair and picking the lock in seconds.  
"Real nice." He laughed, closing the door behind himself.  
"Why are you in Dublin?" I demanded.  
"I told you." He said softly, only furthering my anger and frustration. "I had to leave Belfast for a while, so a friend offered his apartment."  
"Likely." I spat. "You show up, knowing who I am, who Sean is, what we do. What am I supposed to make of that?"  
"What Sean does." He corrected calmly. "I have yet to learn what you do."  
I laughed once, trying to stay angry. "Don't try to distract me. Stop that."  
"Sorry." He put his hands up in surrender. "Continue."  
"Michael, I want the truth."  
"Thank you, first of all, for calling me Michael." He started carefully. "I'm telling you, Fiona. I am not playing some game. I... came here thinking I was escaping some trouble... but... I met you and now I've never been more sure of anything... It was fate that we met." He still looked like he was holding back, but I could tell that he knew that I was too smart for him.  
I blinked at him and then smiled. "Whats her name?"  
His eyes darted to the wall and then back to mine. A dead giveaway that he was being deceitful. "Who?"  
"The girl..." I smiled, stepping toward him to push him onto the couch and sit in his lap. "The girl you left in Belfast."  
He met my eyes and sighed, kissing my forehead. "Sam."  
"So? What is it about this Sam?"  
"She..." He looked distracted by his fingers tangling in my hair. "She doesn't know you exist."  
"Thats obvious." "I didn't think I was gonna meet you."  
"Clearly."  
"She..." He shook his head trying to kiss me.  
I pulled back, pinching his arm playfully. "She what, McBride?"  
"She's not you." He breathed, appearing to be in pain. "I should call her."  
"Do you love her?"  
He shook his head. "I thought I might learn to because she... has feelings for me... but... you..."  
I nodded once. "So, how did you meet her?"  
"She's... involved in a similar enterprise." I laughed. "The arms Dealing enterprise?"  
He laughed with me. "Yeah. you could say she is... involved in arms dealing."  
"You need practice deceiving." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Do you like her?"  
He shrugged. "She's nice. Sort of."  
I nodded and ran my fingers through his hair. "What is she like?"  
"Not you." He kissed me hard.  
"I could've told you that."  
He flipped me so I was on my back and he was hovering on top of me. "Sam is... things with her are easy." He ghosted his lips over my collarbone. "She lies to me. I lie to her. We lie to each other. Neither of us care enough to investigate the truth."  
"What is the truth?" I asked, slipping my hands into the back pocket of his jeans.  
"See?" He smiled and kissed me again. "It's you. You want to know. Won't give up until you do. You're anything but easy."  
I shrugged. "You just..." He ran a hand up my side to slip under the hem of my shirt. "Demand... answers."  
"Of course I do." I smiled at the question in his eyes. He was asking permission. "Michael, you helped me change yesterday." I reminded. "I think its ok that you take my clothes off."  
He smirked and carefully pulled the shirt over my head and off my injured arm. He leaned down to kiss the arm gently, moving his kisses to the shoulder and then back to my collarbone. "I have accidentally fallen in love with you." He playfully bit me through the fabric of my bra. "Is that right?" I used my good hand to grab him through his jeans. He groaned and softly thrust into my hand.  
"McBride? I do believe you're sweet on me." I smiled and unbuttoned his jeans.  
He took over and stood to take them off and rip his shirt off in the process.  
I looked over his body. Hard angles and intimidating muscles. My eyes rested on his underwear, trying to will them away with my mind.  
Michael smirked and pulled my jeans off. "You still doing ok, Fi?"  
"I'm great." I pulled him back to me, connectiong our lips and running my curious hands all over his hard body.  
"You sure about this?" He asked, rubbing his bulge against me.  
"Very sure." I grabbed him through his underwear and demanded he stand.  
With his weight off me, I stood to slip my underwear and bra off as slowly as possible.  
He watched from the couch with wide eyes. He seemed to struggle between two expressions. One looked like he wanted to bend me over the coffee table and the other looked like he was struggling with demons or something. He looked... guilty... maybe.  
I pressed my back against the hallway wall and flipped my hair to the side. "You ready, McBride?"  
He grunted his response as he stalked toward me and pressed his body against mine, his mental war obviously put on hold.  
"Wow." I whispered against his chest. "I love you."  
"Surprising, isn't it?" He seemed just as amused by the idea that someone I had known for a month was this important to me.  
"Michael?" I whispered.  
"Yeah, Fi?"  
"Make love to me." "With pleasure." 


	4. Live the Lie

"I'm sorry." I touched the piece of gauze on Michael's chest lightly. "You know I love you."  
"I know, Fi." He smiled, adjusting his body against mine. "I love you more. And I'm sorry I upset you."  
We were laying in my bed naked after having make up sex a couple times over. The gauze taped over his right pec was a reminder of the fight. The words he said. The tears I cried. The walls he hit. Ultimately, the glasses I threw. Once one particularly harsh glass him him, it became disturbingly apparent that I didn't mean to hurt him. I had fallen to my knees, crying hysterically, expecting more rage out of him, but instead, he had taken a steadying breath and spoken the unbelieveable words, "It's ok, Fi."  
There wasn't much to do or say at that point. I watched in panic as he took his shirt off and pulled the glass shard out of his skin. I felt sick. He was bleeding more than I was comfortable admitting. He dropped the bloody glass in the sink and pressed his ruined shirt to stop the blood. I had... hurt him. I hurt him. I hadn't known it was possible before. I could hurt him. The idea disturbed me. Not only could I hurt him... it could happen completely by mistake.  
"I'm-"  
"Its ok." He said softly. "It was an accident."  
I nodded, still watching while he started stitching up the gash in his chest. I was sorry. And it was an accident, but he seemd to be taking it strikingly well. Possibly better than I was taking it. He seemed borderline relieved. Maybe happy to have something to do with his hands. His stitches were more productive then the wall punching he'd been doing earlier. If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it, but when I threw the glass that hit him, it gouged into his chest and I spotted a short flash of something in his eyes. He looked turned on for a short second. Violence is foreplay in some cultures, I remembered. Not for him, I guess."I... I love you." I offered.  
He smiled. Actually smiled. "I love you, too, Fiona."  
I collapsed into his lap in relief. "Oh thank God! I was worried."  
He chuckled at my surprise, squeezing me once and kissing my temple. "You think one broken glass could change the way I feel about you? If it's possible... I love you more. For what its worth, I'm sorry."  
I nodded. "You love me more because I stabbed you?" I sighed. "I'm sorry, too. You don't have to-" I shook my head and ran my fingers through his short hair.  
"No. I do." He winced in pain, returning to the stitches.  
I poured a glass of water and offered it to him.  
"Thanks, Fi." He took a sip and looked up at me, pausing his stitch job. "I have to tell her, though."  
I sighed. "Yeah." I agreed, finally. "You do."  
"I'll... call her... after this." He finished his handywork.  
"What are you gonna tell her?" I asked, taping the gauze down.  
"I don't know." He shook his head.  
I shook myself out of my reverie. Reliving it wasn't going to change it. "I'm sorry."  
"It's ok, kiddo." He rubbed my back.  
"Call her." I told him firmly.  
"Now?" He winced. "Now." I confirmed.  
He sighed and pulled his phone off the side table. "Maybe don't help."  
I laughed. "I have no business with her, Michael. She only loves a man that I also love. Seems like we might get along in another life."  
"The difference is that the man... he actually loves you back." He dialed the phone and put it on his chest on speaker.  
"Michael?"  
"Sam." He sighed.  
"Oh." She said. I think she knew. "Michael."  
"Yeah?"  
"What?" She wanted him to say it.  
"I've nothing to say." He said, sounding american.  
I narrowed my eyes at him.  
"Sam, you knew it was coming." His irish accent was completely gone.  
"Yeah." She said as my eyes widened at him.  
"I'm sorry." He shrugged, not actually sounding sorry at all.  
"I understand." She sighed. "Enjoy your time in Ireland."  
He hung up abruptly and rubbed his eyes.  
It was quiet for several minutes while I decided what to say. "So... are you...?"  
"What is it?" His accent was back. Sounding as irish as he was smooth.  
"You're... American?"  
He laughed easily. "No, Fi." He kissed my forehead. "I'm not."  
I followed him into the kitchen when he left the bed. "What just happened?"  
"Sam and I met... in Canada." He poured me a glass of juice and pulled out a yogurt for himself. "She was selling a weapon to one of my good friends... who was Canadian. Sam is American. She was talking to my friend Kevin about... well... it was easier for the deal if I pretended to be American. So... I did."  
I looked at him seriously. "So, what happened when you came home?"  
"I just told her I lived in Ireland." He shrugged. "I told you. She's a liar too, so she doesn't ask questions. I said I lived in Ireland, she didn't investigate."  
I nodded, accepting the information. "I understand."  
He smiled. "But you don't believe me?"  
"Of course not." I finished the juice and placed the glass in the sink. "Because you're lying."  
He nodded. "You always know."  
"I trust that whatever the reason is..." I kissed him softly. "It's good. I trust you. It sucks because you suck at lying... but I still trust you."  
"Yeah?" He kissed my forehead.  
"Yeah. I don't care if you lie to another woman. The lying to me is annoying but I'll beat you up for it later."  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah. Tell her you're American or Canadian or Brittish or Australian. Its fine. You needed to lie... so you lied."  
He nodded, looking solemn.  
"I know what its like to lie to someone, thinking you'd never have to see them again and then have to live the lie for a long time because life doesn't always work out the way you thought."  
"Live the lie." He nodded. "Good term."  
I agreed. "I trust you."  
"Good choice." Michaels sadness disappeared and turned solemn. "I love you Fi. You're my forever."  
That was 5 months before he vanished.  



	5. Mr and Mrs Evasive

All the fights and arguments and sex and dinners and coffees and yogurts swirled around my head as Michael spoke.  
"I want you to stop." He whispered. "I'm worried."  
I nodded. It was hard to imagine Michael as anything other than the good man I knew he was. That was the reason why I was so eager to listen. To contact my boss and tell him I had gotten another offer and I couldn't pass it up. "What would I do?"  
"Come with me."  
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Where?"  
He looked from side to side, clearly preparing himself to lie to me. "Bel...fast." He mumbled.  
"Not Belfast?"  
He shook his head.  
"Where?"  
He sighed. "Fi... its complicated."  
"Tell me or I'll leave."  
"Don't leave." He broke down. "Please. Just trust me, Fi."  
"Why do you call me that?"  
"Fi?"  
"Yeah."  
Michael was clearly trying to calm himself but I recognized the turmoil in his eyes. "I like it."  
"I like McBride."  
"Thats not my-" He stopped himself, looking like he might cry. "My name is Michael, Fi."  
"My name is Fiona."  
"I like it. Fi... Fiona."  
"Good. whats your name?"  
He stopped and smiled. "Michael Patrick McBride."  
"No it isn't"  
"No it is." He held my hand and shrugged. He seemed to be a better liar when he wasn't flustered. "But back to you, Miss Evasive."  
I sighed, accepting that his guard was back up and I wasn't getting much else out of him. "What about me, Mr Evasive?"  
"Quit." It sounded easy enough. "Ok."  
"Ok?"  
"I'll do it."  
He seemed surprised. "Why?"  
"Because I love you."  
"I love you too, Fi. Forever."  
That was 3 months before he vanished.

After resigning from the Irish Republic Army, I started helping Michael with deals more and more. He was less of an arms dealer and more of a criminal as I had originally thought, but that fact made for a lot of enemies for the both of us and a lot of messes left behind. I started making explosives to clean up the messes and then taught Michael how to make explosives. He was appreciative. He knew enough about c4 to get by... he knew a lot more than the average person, but I knew everything there was to know about the stuff.  
Michael taught me things too. He told me about his times travelling around Russia. He told me about all the trouble he'd made and taught me about tactical awareness. I was excited to learn how to fight. I had fought many times with many people, but after being kidnapped, Michael insisted I practice. It was less than romantic to say the least. Our relationship was nothing like any other I'd ever had and certainly didn't compare to any Michael had ever had. It was almost hard to imagine romance in most parts of our relationship. Mostly, we were just friends with benefits and then there'd come a moment so passionate, it was impossible to miss the romance.  
Whether it was when we were making love or making war... those times were the ones I lived for. Don't get me wrong... I enjoyed being friends with him. He was fun and sweet and cute and lively, but there were breaks in the young, wild and free relationship where I would remember what I saw in the man. Mcbride was the man who fucked me after we fearlessly sold explosives to someone. Michael was the man who made love to me when I was scared of people we were working with. He was the one I loved. The man I wanted. I'd fallen for the Irish Criminal, but McBride was a double edged sword and I lived for the rare occasions when his other side would come out.  
We were both careful with each other, but sure of each other. I had never met anyone and trusted them so fast. I had never met anyone and loved them so unconditionally. I wanted him so bad, it hurt me to see him in danger. McBride was reckless, too. Childlike wonder to every step he took. Recklessness to every gun he pulled. A playfullness to every bomb he placed. He was a kid.  
But a man. Oh, was he all man, at the same time. When we were alone, I found it hard to find anything child like about the man. He was sure of himself as he moved around my house. He was confident in the way he spoke to Sean and Patrick. My brothers were less than thrilled about his involvement with me, but always quick to ask his help if they were in a bind. They were as sure of his sharp-mindedness as I was. Maybe more so. His mind. Thats something else utterly man about McBride. Wise beyond his years. So quick witted and fun in his child-like work.  
He made our enemies laugh in the moments before they died. He made me scream in the moments before I came. He was everything. Immature and Mature. Young and old. Quick and torturously slow. Confident and scared. He was everything. I couldn't bring myself to imagine anything average about the man. He was larger than life and I was starstruck of everything about him. He was my forever.

"Don't be afraid." McBride laughed once, noticing my shaking hands. "I've done this many times before."  
I watched him confidently place a cloth over my bleeding nose. "I didn't know the airbags would deploy."  
"That happens when you hit the headlights of the car." He explained. "If you want to avoid airbags, you have to..." He trailed off, noticing my scowl.  
"I don't want to know." "It might be important. One time, I-" He stopped again, then shrugged.  
"Your life should be a book." I rolled my eyes.  
He laughed loudly. "Someone once said to me. 'This would make a great Michael McBride story, if people were allowed to tell Michael McBride stories"  
I laughed with him. "Maybe someday, you can tell Michael McBride stories."  
"I doubt it." He sighed.  
"So, what is it? The crime?"  
"Oh god, Fi." He rubbed his face. "Jail is the least of my concerns. However, if any one person knew of all the havoc I'd rained down over the years, they'd probably kill me themselves."  
"Tell me." I shrugged. "I'm curious now."  
"Did you not just hear me?"  
"It's me, Michael. I'm not gonna kill you."  
"If you knew..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "You'd absolutely kill me."  
"Try me." "No. I know you, Fi. I'm not gonna ruin your image of me by being honest." He joked.  
"Michael." I scowled.  
He was quiet for several moments, trying to look busy in the kitchen. "Fi... I have done very bad things."  
I nodded, understanding. "Can I just ask you some questions?"  
"You can ask if you'll also accept that I can't answer them."  
"If you can't... just say you can't."  
He thought about it and then sat on the counter, facing me. "Fine, but I have questions for you too."  
"Shoot." I challenged.  
"No, its your game. Ladies first."  
"I saw you kill Armand. It didn't... I don't know... affect you like I thought it would. I watched you do it and I felt the weight of you taking a life, but you didn't seem to notice it. It was a little concerning. I've done my fair share of naughty deeds... but killing a person...thats another level of crime. How many people have you killed?"  
"I don't know."  
"How often have you killed someone in the last... year?"  
"I've killed 2 people this year if that what you're asking, but that is... I guess a rather low number for me. I don't kill needlessly, as you saw with Armand. It was fast. I wish I could've prolonged his death a little, because of what he did to you... but, I knew it affected you."  
I nodded.  
"Have you killed a person, Fiona?"  
My eyes got teary. "When I was in middle school, I came home from school and an associate of my dads had been waiting for him to show up. It was just me and this 40 year old man and he pretty much immediately started undressing me. I fought him for 5 minutes or so, telling him if he stopped, I wouldn't hurt him... he didn't stop, so I stabbed him in the arm."  
Michael nodded. "Good girl."  
"He didn't stop. It was like... he hadn't been stabbed. I stabbed him in the stomach after that, thinking the arm wasn't enough to stop him. His intestines were practically spilling out of his body and he continued. So, I took the knife and held it in front of his face, telling him I'd kill him. He didn't stop. I begged him to not make me do it. He didn't stop... so I got on top of him and stuck it into his heart. I made it as quick as I could because I didn't want him to suffer unnecessarily. He died almost instantly. I remember how heavy his dead body was. It took all my energy to push him off me so I could call my father."  
"He was probably on drugs." Michael offered softly.  
"He was. Its the only explaination. Anyway... I hated it. I've never felt that feeling before and I hope I never have to feel it again."  
"I hope that as well. You never get used to it." He nodded. "That feeling of taking a person off the planet... it never goes away, but you get better at coping. Armand was the easiest kill I've ever had because I literally couldn't wait to send that bastard to hell for what he'd done to you."  
I understood. "Have you... ever... been tortured?"  
He pursed his lips. "I want to lie because I don't want you to frown anymore."  
I didn't respond.  
"I've been tortured many times."  
"Have you ever tortured someone else?"  
He stumbled over his words. "Um... yes... Yeah I have."  
I nodded. "Waterboarding?"  
"I'd never." He insisted, holding his right hand up. "Swear on my life. I have never and will never."  
"I meant have you been waterboarded?"  
He regained his solemn expression. "Yeah."  
"Ok."  
"Ok?"  
"Not ok, but yeah... I guess ok."  
"I love you, Fiona."  
"I love you, too."  
"Satisfied?"  
"Not really. You?"  
He sighed, looking at me seriously. "Meh... secrets aren't so bad. What now, Miss Glenanne?"  
That was 2 months before he vanished. 


	6. The Fear of Falling Apart

7 months after meeting McBride, he was returning to Belfast and my lease was up at my apartment. He asked me to come with him to Belfast and move in with him. It only made sense for us, seeing as every day we spent side by side and every night, we laid side by side. Having seperate flats didn't really add up. We were basically living together anyway.  
"I love you." He said simply as we pulled into the flat in Belfast. "I will always love you."

We hadn't fought since we moved to Belfast. It had been a month and I wondered when it would happen. It seemed like before Michael was always willing to take my punches with a strong jaw, but since we moved in together, his entire game changed. If there was a misunderstanding or disagreement, he let up. He was softer about issues that he deemed insignificant and more unwavering about topics he thought were important. He didn't want to talk about his family, though and I didn't ask anymore. The fight wasn't worth it because in the end, he still wouldn't talk. He'd make up some story that I could tell was a lie and start undressing... eager to bend me over the oven or the sink or the table or the couch and forget about it. He knew I'd forget my questions in a haze of bliss. I stopped trying to get answers.  
Maybe I was getting soft. I'd rather make love than get answers if it meant he was happy. I knew he was a mystery. I lived with a mystery. I was in love with a mystery and I didn't really care. I just wanted him to be happy... and he was. Or so he had me believe. I could never really be sure, because like I said... he was a mystery. I didn't know him, completely. But... sometimes... I did. Sometimes he didn't need to tell me the truth. I could see it in the way he looked at me. When he woke up in the morning, he looked real... raw and unforgivingly himself. I knew that man. The real michael was gentle to me but would gently rip a couch cushion in half if I got him worked up enough. The real Michael would caress my cheek so softly, it almost didn't happen, and then fuck me so hard, I couldn't walk for a week. He was him. I knew him... and yet... sometimes I just didn't. He was two people in one. He was a boy and a man. I always thought Mcbride the child and Michael the man. He alternated between the two but it seemed like he didn't want me to see the manly side of him. If he slipped out of this childish facade, he'd catch himself often.  
In all his childlike wonder and all his burly complexity... he was mine. I would ask him about his past. He would divert to the future. He would ask me about my family, I'd tell him whatever he wanted to know. It wasn't fair really. He lied and I was honest and that was our complicated relationship, but I didn't care so much. I knew he had secrets and he told me the important things. The rest, I didn't press. I wondered if I was becoming like Sam. He said she never asked questions because she knew he wouldn't answer them. I wondered if when they met, she'd been like me. Determined for answers and eventually became scorned about the lack thereof.  
He still was mine, though. Not hers. I doubted he was ever hers. He told me I awoke a side of him Sam never saw and would never see. Through it all, he was here with me and that meant he wanted to be here with me because Michael wasn't good with taking orders. He was a lone wolf. Or maybe he wasn't. Lone wolves don't find the love of their life. They walk alone until they die alone. Michael was something else. He was a wolf in the way that he could easily survive solo, but he was so many other animals. A gorilla of a lover. A gorilla who fucked like a bunny. I couldn't put my finger on him.  
I was getting soft. I could tell by every word I said. I was a woman who was very in love and I just wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.  
"I love you." He mumbed into his pillow one night. "But if you keep staring at me while I'm trying to sleep, I'm gonna smother you to death."  
I rolled over and fell asleep, content.  
That was a week before he vanished.

"Fionaaaaa..." He tapped my nose trying to wake me.  
"Fuck you, McBride." I growled.  
"I made you an omelet." He offered.  
"Egg whites?"  
"Of course."  
I dragged myself out of bed to kiss him hard on the lips. "I love you so much."  
"I love you too, Fi... but if you don't brush your teeth, we're breaking up." He grinned.  
I made my way to the bathroom and grabbed my toothbrush, only pausing to note our running low on toothpaste. "Remind me to get toothpaste while we're out."  
"We need paper towels, too. Check the bathroom cabinet to make sure thats all we need."  
I opened the cabinet and looked through its contents. I stopped. Michael appeared in the doorway after a moment. "Fi?"  
"I..." I stared at the box of tampons like it was foreign.  
"Are you... ok?" He sounded scared.  
"Michael... I..." I was counting back days.  
"Are you sure?"  
"No... I'm not." I said. "How sure can I be, though?"  
"So... a pregnancy test, then?" He said, adding it to the mental list.  
"We should go now." I said "Right now." He agreed.  
We piled into the truck and drove to the drug store on the corner. He didn't seem sure on which test to get and I wasn't either. He read the back of one of them and then grabbed another of a different brand.  
"Lets just get 2 different brands." He shrugged.  
"2 tests." I agreed. "From 2 different brands. Makes sense to me."  
After we checked out, we both went to the back of the store. There was a womens restroom, a mens restroom and a family one. I walked into the family one and held the door for Michael. He leaned against the wall and waited patiently. It wasn't 30 seconds before 'not pregnant' showed up on both of the tests. I took a deep breath and released it, looking at Michael.  
"Oh, thank God." He said, kissing my forehead.  
I laughed. "Can you fucking imagine?"  
"A baby." He laughed with me. "Us... a baby."  
"You still are a baby."  
He laughed harder and followed me to the car. It was quiet on the way home until he whispered. "Fi, I love you."  
"I know."  
"I just don't want you to think I'm overly relieved about you not being..." He trailed off. "I mean, I was relieved. But... you know."  
"Yeah. I know." I smiled at him. "We just aren't ready."  
"I know, Michael. Neither of us are. I love you more than I can say." That was 4 days before he vanished. 


	7. My Sunshine

"You are my sunshine" Michael sang as I tried to cook. "My only sunshine."  
"Michael" I laughed as he tickled my sides. "You make me happy" He picked me up onto the counter.  
"I'm cooking!" I squealed.  
"When skies are grey."  
I kissed his neck as he slipped my shirt over my head and kissed me. "I'm gonna burn dinner." I warned.  
"You'll never know, Dear." He continued, throwing my bra across the room.  
I blushed as I sat before him half naked while he was completely dressed. I never got used to being under his gaze and I hoped I stayed that way forever. Always frozen in my tracks by those blue eyes. Always silenced by his slick words. Always overwhelmed by who he was. My Michael. Michael McBride.  
"Please don't take" He lifted me into his arms and reached over to turn off the oven.  
"It's a good thing I love you because you're as stubborn as they come."  
"My sunshine" He dropped me on the dining room table.  
"You're gonna break the table and I'm gonna beat you up." I ran my hands up and down his back. "Do you hear me, Michael?"  
He connected our lips hard, silencing me before finishing his song with a fervent, "Away"  
That was 9 hours before he vanished. 


	8. I'd rather be Somewhere with You

I didn't have to understand it... which was good... because I didn't. I didn't have to like it... and I didn't. What I did have to do was accept it... and move on, but I couldn't.  
He was just gone. His clothes were mostly still there. His truck was gone. There was a note on the counter stating simply 'I'm Sorry' with a wad of cash on top of it. That was the only reason I didn't go looking for him. He left a note saying 2 words and those words say all that needs to be said. I'm sorry means a lot... but mostly... it means I'm not sorry. I couldn't think of a single explanation for him leaving. If he was sorry, He would... it would be different.  
'I'm Sorry' He said. It meant I don't love you. He'd be here if he loved me. The cash confused me. His leaving meant he wasn't who I thought he was. The cash meant he was exactly who I thought he was. I'm leaving, but I don't want you to worry. I'm leaving, but I will still take care of you. There was enough cash to pay rent for a year. Maybe more. I played with the rubberband and continued guessing the amount without opening the wad. I threw it at the wall and went to find breakable items to smash.  
That was 2 hours after he vanished.

Sean could almost sense that something was wrong. I was sure of it. I picked up his call and tried to breath. "He's gone" I breathed.  
"Patricks on his way." He said angrily. "I'm stuck here in Dublin with Tracy. Shes sick, but if you need me, I can leave." Tracy was Sean's very annoying girlfriend.  
"I'm fine, Sean." I offered.  
"I hear in your voice you're not. Patrick will be there soon, Sis. Hang in there."  
I hung up and watched the clock tick slowly. It was eating me up. What happened? Why? Where is he? Why? When is he coming back? Why? Is he coming back, ever? WHY?  
I went to take a shower and ended up sitting on the cold tile, letting the warm water beat against my back. It soothed me for nearly an hour, and then it grew cold and made me more angry. I turned off the water and went to the bedroom. I dried off and put my clothes in the hamper while slipping into one of Michael's shirts he had left behind. Maybe on purpose. Maybe not.  
From the looks of it, he left in a hurry. His 'I'm Sorry' was sloppy and rushed. His normally neat clothes were in disarray. He had taken some clothes and left some. What confused me was the clothes that he did leave... they were 3 shirts and a sweatsuit. All articles of his clothing that I loved wearing. That meant that either he still cared about me, or he didn't want them because they smelled like me now. He didn't want them because they smelled like me? No. That didn't make sense either because he took my throw blanket off the couch. It was the blanket he held when he wanted to be comforted. He said it smelled like me and he confirmed that by sleeping with it over his head on several occasions. He took the blanket... because it smelled like me and made him feel safe. None of it made sense. None of it didn't confuse me. I looked at the table, uneven on its legs after he had to fix the legs last night. After our escepades from the kitchen continued to the dining room. He had held my skull hard and kissed me while begging me... "Please don't take my sunshine away."  
And it was gone. My sunshine was gone and his sunshine was here with me. It didn't add up.  
Patrick didn't knock. He simply let himself in and immediately pulled me into his arms. "God, Fiona, I'm so sorry"  
I shook my head. "So is he, evidently."  
"He said sorry?"  
"He left a note."  
He shook his head. "What did it say?"  
"I'm Sorry."  
He waited. "And?"  
"Thats all. It said 'I'm Sorry' and there was a bunch of cash on top of it."  
"How much cash?"  
"More than I knew he had."  
Patrick shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Fiona."  
I shrugged. "I'll live." I whispered. "Thats the crazy part is that it doesn't seem like I'll live... but I will."  
"You will." He nodded and held me tighter.  
"I'll live."  
That was 6 hours after he vanished.

Life goes on... which seems important because I didn't. I didn't 'go on'. I stopped trying to live a life at all. I started assuming that I would always feel this way. I would continue to feel the loss until I eventually died. I didn't do anything. I just breathed. Sean came to Belfast at Patrick's insistence. Pat was worried and it was clear in the way he spoke to me. They both regarded me like I was a mental patient. Maybe I should've been. I thought about that as Sean placed a plate of food in front of me.  
"Please eat, Fiona." He begged.  
I didn't respond. I just continued to stare at the wall across the room. The same wall he had banged his head up against out of anger weeks before. "What do you want from me, Fiona?" He had demanded. I had cried and I began crying again, recalling the fight. It was after I had gone to a meet to sell a couple sniper rifles. The deal had gone downhill fast, when several trucks of American Navy SEALS pulled into the parking lot and held guns to our heads, demanding answers.  
Michael had acted instinctively and looked around at the group of us criminals and stated. "Nobody say a Goddamn word!"  
I became confused when the leader of the group went straight to Jon. It was clear they were after the guy who was buying the weapons. I thought for a moment that we would get out of this, and then I remembered that we were illegally selling weapons that we owned illegally and I gave up hope.  
Michael put me between him and the group of SEALs coming our way. "She has nothing to do with this." He stated.  
"Michael." I said, not about to allow him to take the fall for all of this.  
"Shut up." He said. "Nobody touch her until I talk to whoever is in charge of this fiasco."  
"That would be me." The leader stepped in front of the others after arresting Jon. "Uhhh... Michael We-"  
"SAM!" Michael yelled. "My American friend. Good to see you again."  
Sam nodded, picking up on some secret code Michael was speaking in. "Yeah... you too, Mikey. What's going on here?"  
"You know, just some good ole weapons dealing." Michael looked wide eyed at Sam. "Yeah... why don't we talk about this... over there..." Sam pointed toward one of the trucks.  
"Sure." Michael said, stepping away with Sam. "Fiona, I'll be right back. Gentlemen, Harm a hair on her head and I'll destroy you."  
I watched Sam and Michael talk for a few moments and then they returned in a hurry. I was so beyond confused about Michael knowing the man and the Man knowing Michael. I'd always assumed Michael had a pretty sketchy relationship with the authorities. He seemed to be friends with this man, though.  
"Boys, roll out." Sam waved the guys off.  
Michael grabbed my arm and dragged me to the car. "We have to go, now."  
"What happened? Who is he?" I asked when we got to the car.  
"An old associate."  
"Thats not true. An associate wouldn't just let us off like that."  
"He didn't let us off, Fi." Michael waved an arm in frustration. "He took the guns."  
I looked out the windshield.  
"He is an old friend... I guess... sort of friendly... but anyway, he said they were there for Jon and they wouldn't take us in if we released the weapons and left peacefully. I said yes. He said get lost before the authorities show up or Jon makes a scene about us getting special treatment. So we left. Any questions?" He sounded irritated.  
I nodded, ready for a fight. "Where did you meet him?"  
He sighed. "Russia."  
"And?"  
"And... what?"  
"What is his allegiance to you?"  
"He has no allegiance to me, Fi. Jesus, woman! You find out I have an associate who's with the American government and you're losing your mind."  
"I'm not losing my mind, Michael. I just want to know how you guys met?"  
"Does it even matter?" He pulled into the house and I followed him in, slamming the door so hard, it shook a vase on a shelf. "You seem like you've already decided that I have no business being friends woth him, so why does it matter. You're just gonna control every fucking aspect of my life anyway."  
"Michael, that man just cost us a lot of fucking money and you're referring to him as a friend still."  
"He got us out of going to jail, though, so..." He shrugged. "A fucking thank you would've worked fine."  
"Fucking thank you?!" I asked, incredulous.  
"Fucking you're welcome!" He spat.

Sean touched my shoulder and I flinched hard. My memories clouded over as I was dragged to the present. Thats all Michael was. Memories.  
I never got the answers I wanted. He had insisted Sam and him were just associates. I wanted to go find this Sam and give him a piece of my mind for costing me nearly 20 grand. Michael acted like he was doing us a favor and also figured I shoud be grateful he didn't throw me under the bus. I was shocked he would even suggest such a thing. There were plenty of memories I could torture myself with if I wanted.. Every inch of his apartment spoke of who he was. It was all memories. It hurt. I wanted him to either come back or take his memories with him. I didn't want or need them. I felt Patrick pacing behind me. "Fiona, we're worried."  
I felt like a mental patient again.  
"I just want you to try to move on." Sean looked frustrated rather than sympathetic for the first time. "Fiona, he's gone. You gotta get up. You aren't one to let a man keep you down. What kind of message are you sending right now? You're letting the bastard win. Do you think for one second he's actually sorry?! That he actually cared?! That he actually loved you?! He didn't, Fiona. He didn't love you and he doesn't want you back. That man hasn't spared you a thought since he walked out the door." He spat.  
Patrick looked at him in surprise. "Sean!"  
I didn't react. Maybe Sean was right.  
"Fiona, I'm sorry." Pat apologized for Sean. "What he meant to say is that you are a strong young woman. You'd never let this behavior affect you in the past and you shouldn't now. Please don't let him make you feel some... negative way. Michael never deserved you."  
I still didn't react. Maybe Patrick was right.  
"Ok." Sean clapped his hands together and sighed. "I say we call a Dr. Pat. What do you think? The girl's gone mental."  
Patrick made eye contact with me for a long moment. "Is that what you want, Fiona?"  
I didn't react.  
"Maybe." Pat breathed after a few more moments of silence.  
Sean stood up and grabbed his keys. "I'm going for a drive. You keep trying."  
He left without waiting for a response from Patrick.  
Pat pet my hair softly. "Fiona?"  
I didn't respond. I just breathed.  
He stood up and went to the dresser across the room. "Is this yours or his?" He inquired.  
I didn't react, just stared, a little confused.  
He opened each drawer carefully, looking through the limited amount of Michaels stuff that was left behind. He took a gun out of the bottom drawer and checked to see that it was loaded. He slammed the magazine back in the gun and shook his head in wonder. "I'm sure you can handle a weapon, but I don't appreciate him leaving loaded weapons around you, Fiona."  
I didn't react again. I was finding that I might not be able to react. I had lost my voice probably. I had lost the will to live. Maybe I should tell them I want to get a Psych eval. Maybe I shoud tell them I really just want to die.  
That was 2 days after he vanished.

"Should we maybe just bring her to the hospital?" Sean asked Pat.  
By day 5, they had started talking like I wasn't even there.  
Patrick sighed. "You know whats crazy?"  
"Whats that?"  
"I thought he'd come back."  
"Me too" Sean admitted. "I was lying... you know. He did care about her and he did love her."  
"I know. I saw it."  
"He probably is thinking about her and I hope he regrets his decisions."  
Pat nodded. "Me too. I think a hospital is a bit of an overkill. She'll recover."  
Sean nodded and turned the TV on some show where two men were fighting. The man who dealt the most damage ran away from the fight with a broken nose.  
My mind flashed back to my broken nose. Michael's leather jacket smelled like his musk as he hovered in my personal space. But really I didn't have any space that was mine and not his. He held a cloth to my nose and smiled his crooked smile as I asked him about his mother. I had shaken with laughter as he tickled my sides. The tears in my eyes were from my bloody nose, not crying, but he had assumed I was crying and started tickling me to lighten the mood. He wasn't gonna tell me about his mother. I could tell. It didn't matter, I realized.  
"I love you." He lied.  
"I love you, too." I told the truth.  
I shook myself out of the memories with only a few tears shed. Maybe I was healing. Maybe I was dying. It felt like I was dying.  
McBride was killing me. What a bastard. He had complained to me once, that I would be the death of him. I would be the death of HIM. I struggled to find humor in that as I laid on the couch, wasting away. Dying. Maybe Dying. Maybe I was just homesick, then again. That's what it felt like. Homesickness. Maybe Michael was my home. Maybe when he left, he took my home with him. He took my home and left his shirts like they were supposed to somehow make up for it.  
Maybe I hated the clothes, in fact. I thought they were comforting me, but they were actually connecting me to a man that wanted no part or lot with me. Maybe they werent cocooning me in a memory of my life with Michael. Maybe they were wrapping me up like a boa constrictor and suffocating me. Maybe I'm pathetic for wearing the shirts. Maybe I'm pathetic for still wanting Michael after all he'd put me through. I used to be a strong woman, as Sean and Patrick had reminded me. The old Fiona wouldn't let a breakup ruin her. The old Fiona would tell him to get bent and find a rebound to distract her.  
The old Fiona would insist she'd been sleeping with his friends the whole time. I considered Sam. If I had a way to contact him, I probably would invite him over for a romp. Regardless of the fact that he was with the Americans, he was friends with Michael and he wasn't bad looking at all. I could do worse. The old Fiona would find him and get under him to get over Michael.  
The old Fiona was gone, though. I was changed when I met Michael. Everything about me was affected by who he was. Who we were. What he did. What we did. The mess we made. A couple of kids making trouble for themselves, but having way too much fun to stop. I was no longer Miss Independant. I was now Miss Evasive, as McBride had put it. I thought I was Miss McBride. Fiona McBride. It sounded dumb. Pathetic, even, after all I'd been through. I had never really been the marrying type... but... I thought maybe I was becoming the marrying type.  
McBride probably knew what he was doing all along. That hurt. The idea that all I had left was the memories and now they were tainted by my overthinking. I played them over in my head a thousand times. Every time McBride had glanced away. Everytime he sighed heavily... were those warning signs? They were all I got as a warning and I certainly didn't heed them. I had thought he was happy. I thought we were happy.  
That was 5 days after he left. 


	9. Enemy of the States

After a couple more days, Sean had to return to Dublin to tend to Tracy again. His girlfriend was pregnant and he was constantly worried about her. It didn't help that she was as dramatic as they come... calling him all hours of the night for silly things. Her head hurts. Her feet hurt. She wants a sandwich. She's horny.  
I laid my head down on my pillow and sighed heavily. My throat hurt still and my head was pounding again, but I was ok. I wasn't dying anymore. I was gonna live and I didn't know if that was good or bad. I didn't want to die... but I certainly didn't want to live without Michael. I wondered if he wanted to live without me. Of course he did. He left. He was 'Sorry'... but he left which means he didn't want to be here. He didn't want me anymore. Maybe he never did.  
I picked up my phone and texted his phone. I wasn't sure what I wanted to say, but I felt like there were words left unsaid and I didn't have peace with the whole situation. Maybe if I said whatever I needed to in the form of a text, I'd be able to get some closure.  
'Hey. I should be mad. I'm having a hard time working up any emotions at this point. I understand that you won't text back. You probably won't even see this. I just kind of want to text. Try. I don't even really know what to say. I'll just tell you what I'm thinking. I think you are not Michael McBride. Even if you are... you aren't the version I knew. You aren't the man I fell in love with. I think your name is Michael... I've decided McBride isn't your last name because you always reacted pretty badly when I called you that. You reacted badly about a lot of things that upset you. Wherever you are, I hope nothing is upsetting you. Anyway, I also think you are not as much of a criminal as you had me believe. I think this because you had some form of a friendship with that Sam fellow. By the way, if I ever see him again, I'm probably gonna sleep with him. Tell me not to or don't. I don't really care. I lost months of my life to you... you get to at least lose a friend. I wonder how much of a friend he is to you. If your ex girlfriend threw herself at him, would he remain loyal? Exgirlfriend isn't a nice term. I don't wanna be called that. Wherever you are, just don't call me your ex. Call me your former lover. Or a woman you used to love. I don't know. Just not ex. I think you aren't from Belfast. You hardly knew anyone here and you said you lived here for years. Also, we did a lot of deals in this area and we never crossed paths with the men you were running from, when we met. Person B, was it? Maybe person A. I don't remember. Maybe the story was a lie anyway, so it doesn't matter. So, you aren't from Belfast. Where are you from? And where did you go? I think you probably live in Kilkenny or Cork and you probably have a wife. Maybe not a wife. But I think you're from the south because your accent isn't northern Irish. I think Kilkenny because you think yourself a weapon, in body and mind. Kilkenny is where I imagined you were turned into a weapon. Anyway, I think you're also older than you had me believe. You look every bit of 26 most of the time, but sometimes, you'd talk to me like I was a child. Like you were my boss. I wish you were my boss. I wish you were my anything. I wish I was anything to you. I guess I don't know what I want. I don't really know. I also think you won't get this text because your phone number is disconnected... but it seems like you were always more connected than you led me to believe, so I just assume you will somehow get the message, if not the text. I love you Michael. Write back. Come back. Be here.'

I still hadn't spoken, but I stopped trying. I didn't really have anything to say. Patrick brought me a plate of alfredo and truffles and I smiled. "Theres that beautiful smile." He smiled back. "You're welcome, angel."  
I dug in and he watched, pleased with my reaction to my favorite food. The dish was halfway gone when he changed the channel to the news and I slowed down. I had been eating faster than probably healthy and I didn't want to get sick again. "Look at that storm." Pat shook his head. "Seans lucky he scampered out the other night, otherwise, he might be stuck in its path like you and I, kiddo."  
I continued eating and watched the forecast with him.  
"Looks nasty. You and I will just have to hunker down and wait it out. It should make landfall by tomorrow at noon. I'll be heading to the store first thing in the morning to stock the fridge in case we lose power. You just sleep in, tho. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."  
I was more than grateful that Pat didn't need my response to continue the smooth conversation. It was comfortable and I appreciated him.  
"You look wiped." He commented when I finished the food. "Head to bed?"  
I got up and made my way to the bedroom. Patrick took my plate to the sink and began washing the dishes. I stood in the dooorjamb to the kitchen, watching him. "Thank you." I said in a croaky vioce.  
Patrick looked at me like a child who said its first words. "You're welcome angel. Sleep well, Fiona."  
I went to bed, smiling in adoration of my brother. He was an amazing human and I wondered why I never noticed it before.  
I had slipped off to sleep and it was nearly 3 hours later when I awoke to Patrick shaking me.  
"You're screaming his name, Darlin" He looked pained as he woke me.  
"Sorry." I tried to catch my breath as the tears fell from my eyes unchecked.  
Pat shook his head. "You're not the one who should be apologizing."  
That was 11 days after he vanished.

The days and nights kind of started to mesh together as I came to the grim realization that Michael wasn't coming back. I had to accept it. It hurt. He was gone and I needed to move on and try to live half a life at least. For Patrick's sake, if not for my own. He wasn't gonna leave until I was ok again and that was clear. His wife needed him though. I knew she was probably upset with his absence, so I pretended for as long as I needed to. He had to go home to her. I had to make it on my own.  
"If you're sure." He had said as he packed up his car to return to Dublin. "Positive." I hugged him.  
"Call if you need anything, Fiona." He said, driving away.  
I sighed and went back upstairs to collapse on the couch. "Ok, Fiona." I talked to myself. "You can do this."  
I couldn't. I was sure. I stopped eating after Pat left and stopped getting off the couch shortly thereafter. It was a few hours before I decided my only option was to find Michael. I was going to die otherwise. I didn't have much of an option. As unhealthy as it was, I just wanted answers. If I found Michael and he told me he didn't love me anymore... I'd probably be ok. I just wanted to know though. I needed answers and he owed them to me.  
I started searching through the flat for clues. There was a business card in the bottom of a drawer. Tom Card was all it said. No company or anything. I googled him and found no answers. I called the number on the card and it asked for an extention. I didn't have one. I hung up and googled the number. It didn't come up with anything. I googled the area code. Langley, Virginia, USA. I narrowed my eyes at the card and wondered what else to do.  
Turning the card over in my hands, I noticed a number scrawled on the back in pen. I called the number, but hung up before anyone could answer. I didn't even know who this number was for. I needed to mind my own business. I tried to think of any associates who might offer answers. Samantha. I needed to find Sam. She could answer my questions. She had lived here with Michael for a short period of time, I thought. I looked through The closet and didn't find anything but a box of old mail. None of it had any names on it, except one letter, handwritten to a Samantha Lynn Keys. I googled the name and found a Facebook page. I messaged her.  
'Sam, My name is Fiona. I need to get a hold of Michael and he is unreachable by phone. I need to get him an important message. I know you're an associate of his and if you could get a message to him, have him call me at 028-365-1213, Use country code 353 if you aren't in Ireland. I appreciate it. Thank you'  
I sent the message and continued searching the flat for clues. I was lying with the whole, 'need to get him a message' but I was a bit desperate for answers. I decided to go out to get dinner, seeing as I was probably not gonna eat, I figured I could get my favorite food and try that. The night sky was dark and the wind whipped around, making my hair blow in my face. I walked to the car quickly, pulling my jacket closer around my shouders. My phone rang as I started the car. It was Louis. He was an old friend of Michael and I.  
"Louis?" I answered. "Have you heard from Michael?"  
"What? No. Fiona!" He sounded out of breath. "I'm calling to warn you."  
"Warn me?"  
"Someone is coming for you."  
I turned the car off and listened carefully.  
"I was just selling a gun to a man in Belfast."  
"I'm in Belfast, Louis."  
"GET OUT OF BELFAST, FIONA. He is coming. He asked if I knew you and I lied and said not any more and he explained that Michael is not who we think he is. He thinks he's a traitor and you knew and were working with him. He's coming for blood, Fiona. Get out of town. Tonight."  
"Thanks for the warning, Louis. I owe you." I hung up and ran inside the flat to pack a bag. Now I DID need to get a message to Michael. I had a reason to be stalking him. After throwing everything in site in a bag, I grabbed the wad of cash and the sketchy business card and took off for the airport. It wasn't an hour before I parked the car in long term parking and walked into the airport. I was looking for the soonest flight leaving and noticed one headed to Langley Virginia. It wasn't leaving for 2 hours, so I decided it was out of the question, but there was a flight boarding now for New York. I bought a ticket and rushed through security.  
The plane was quiet, seeing as it was night time when we took off. I used the plane's wifi to send Patrick a facebook message and tell him I was going to America. I'd call and explain when I land. I then went to google and looked up hotels in Albany where the plane was landing. After finding one and booking a room online, I googled Langley. It was eating me alive. Who was Tom Card and why did Michael deem his business card important enough to keep. I looked for anything notable about the city. CIA headquarters. Thats it. I sighed heavily. That would explain why the card didn't have a company on it. I was eager to land and have cell service again. I had enough information and had decided I needed to call the number on the back of the card. The flight felt like it would never end. Maybe only because I felt like I was being chased. My heart raced as I cracked my knuckles, anticipating danger.  
That was 14 days after he vanished.

The hotel was a lot nicer than I had thought and I was grateful because I had assumed whoever was looking for me would never look in a 5 star hotel in Albany, New York. I pulled out my cell phone and accepted the international charges. I was 3 am in the USA, but I couldn't wait any longer. I assumed there would be no answer and I could figure out who he was by his voicemail greeting.  
"Tom Card." He answered.  
I panicked. "Um... I'm sorry... I didn't think you'd answer." I didn't know what to say. The man sounded like he had been sleeping and I had woken him. I breathed. "My name is Fiona Glenanne." I started.  
"FIONA?" He interrupted.  
I paused. "Yes. Do I know you?"  
He thought about it and decided not to answer. "How did you get this number?"  
"I found it... I think you work for the CIA...?"  
He didn't answer.  
"I just need to get a message to Michael." I said.  
He sighed. "I'm afraid I can't make any guarantees he'll get the message."  
"I'm in America." I explained, ignoring what he said. "I assume by your reaction, you know where Michael is."  
He didn't answer. "What is the message, Fiona?"  
"Tell him Louis said that Collin Ruiz is coming after me. He wants me dead and Michael too." I sighed. "I don't know why. Just warn him, please."  
"Wait, Fiona." Tom seemed surprised, suddenly interested. "Someone wants to hurt you?"  
"Yeah. Thats why I came to America. I'm in New York, hiding. He has it in his head that Michael is a traitor or something. Why?"  
He sighed again. "Can you come to Langley or shall I fly there?"  
I rubbed my arm. "I just landed. I need to sleep. Can you help me?"  
"I will do everything in my power. Stay put. I'll be on the first flight out."  
"Why?"  
"Because Michael made you a federally protected indivual. He wanted to ensure no one could harm you, so he went to extreme measures to be sure you were safe. Any enemy of yours is now an enemy of the states. This Collin Ruiz will be on the no fly list by the end of the hour. I will do everything in my power to protect you, Fiona."  
I was shocked. "Thank you."  
"My pleasure. I'll be there asap."  
I hung up and breathed a sigh of relief. 


	10. I'm angry at your Tan

It was easier to imagine that McBride was just going to appear at somepoint and it was going to be back to the way it used to be. I was laying in the hotel bed, imagining that I was in our flat in Belfast and he was on his way home. It was easier than accepting that he just didn't want me anymore. But he didn't and I needed to accept that and move on with my life. I wanted Tom Card to tell me that Michael was coming. He wasn't going to tell me that, though. He was going to help me because he was a good person and that was his job.  
Less than 3 hours after I hung up with Tom, there was a knock at the hotel door. I popped out of bed quickly... eager to get answers if Tom had any... and well... I think he knows where Michael is, so, he has some answers. More answers than I had. I looked through the peephole and stopped breathing.  
It looked... like Michael... just better. It wasn't fair. He looked better than ever. His once black hair was now a dark brown with slight highlights. He had lost his signature leather jacket and dark wash jeans and instead wore a tight fitting white tee and cargo pants. His pale white skin was now tanned with a slight burn on the tops of his cheeks. The sun had done wonders. It had lightened his hair, darkened his skin and brought out a slight dusting of freckles on his nose. I was staring through the hole.  
"Fi?" He sensed my presence on the other side of the door.  
"I'm not gonna let you in and heres why," I started.  
He laughed out loud.  
"I'm looking at you through this little hole."  
He waited but I didn't continue. "Ok... So?" He looked at the peephole and I blushed even though he couldn't see me.  
"You... are tan, now?"  
"Uh... yeah." I was noting his American accent. Or I guess its just a lack of an irish accent. "I live in Florida."  
"Oh. I see." I breathed. "You... are just normally tan?"  
"Yeah. I had to avoid sunlight for like 3 months before I met you and that was the only reason I looked ghostly."  
"I see."  
"Do I get to know why you aren't letting me in? Are you just angry at my tan?"  
I paused. "I... am not doing well."  
"Yeah. Me either, Fi."  
"You look better than ever so fuck you." He laughed.  
"And I think American... the accent... or lack thereof... it suits you."  
"Thank you." He waited. "Fi? Open the door, sweetie."  
"Like I said... I'm not doing well. I have lost 10 lbs since you left. If you thought I was scrawny before... yeah... I don't look well."  
He blinked and frowned at the peephole. "Please?"  
"I haven't left the house in weeks. I look like a fucking ghost, Michael."  
"Fiona, I understand that I left things pretty rough... turned your life on its ear. I get it. It isn't healthy for us to be apart, so let me in... and we... you know... won't be apart."  
I thought about it and finally decided he'd seen me in too many states of undress and illness and injury for me to get shy now. I opened the door and sighed. "Hey."  
He looked in physical pain. "Hi, Baby." The words didn't fit Michael McBride. The Irish criminal I'd fallen in love with. But the words fit this version of Michael. Baby wasn't anything I'd ever imagined being called. Pat called me angel. Sean called me sis. Michael McBride called me Fi. This man... called me baby. But I liked it. A lot.  
"Hi..."  
"Michael." He said. "If you call me McBride, I'll start breaking things."  
"What's your real name?"  
"Michael."  
"Michael what?"  
He paused. "My name is Michael Franklin Westen."  
"You work for the CIA?" I went to sit at the tiny hotel table. He sat across from me.  
He nodded a little.  
"Tell me."  
"Tom Card works for the CIA. He isn't coming. He will meet us in Miami. Tom... is my handler. I'm a spy."  
I sniffed and frowned at the wall. "Wow. So, you are a traitor, then."  
"I'm not Irish. I'm American, so technically... I'm not a traitor. I'm loyal to my country... but I'm sorry."  
"Nope." I shook my head. "I'm sorry I didn't figure that shit out."  
"I was sent to Ireland to stop the sale of explosives to Saudi Arabia. Tom had gotten information that you were making bombs and selling them to the Militia in Saudi Arabia and they were using them to blow up US camps."  
"I was making bombs for-"  
"The IRA. I know. We all know that now. I was sent to Dublin to befriend you and ultimately send you... probably to Guantanemo...? I don't know what they were gonna do with you. Anyway... I met you and was sure by the first night that our source had been wrong. as far as I was concerned, there was no way you'd knowingly sell anything to a Saudi Arabian Militia. I didn't think you even knew how to make a fucking bomb."  
I laughed. "Oh god. I taught you how to make fake c4 to sell to people." I shook my head.  
"I appreciated it. I'm gonna use that knowledge." He laughed. "By the way." He paused, leaning forward to slip hair behind my ear. "You... don't look ghostly... or sick... you look... absolutely breathtaking." He leaned back again and went on. "I told Tom we had bad intel and he told me that I was a softie. Said I was feeling bad for you. I had a crush on you." He shook his head. "He made so many jokes when you sent that text."  
"What text?" I paused, staring into his eyes. "Oh... you got that."  
"Yeah. My names not McBride, I'm not from Kilkenny and I don't have a wife." He smiled softly. "You scored One right out of three. Not too bad."  
"You got the text and you..."  
"I wasn't allowed to respond." He interrupted. "Sorry."  
"I was in such a bad place, I don't even remember what I said."  
"Sam isn't your type, by the way." He said. "And I'm not gonna tell him anyway, because he wouldn't turn you down and that frustrates me."  
"Oh yeah." I remembered. "Who is he anyway?"  
"When you met him, he was a Navy SEAL who I'd done a couple jobs with when I was a ranger. I ran into him on a job in Russia when I joined the agency. He was... a big help. He is more than a good guy. Sam Axe is a great friend. He actually just got honorably discharged for sleeping with his bosses wife and in doing that, revealing a traitor. After that, he couldn't really return to the SEALs, so they sent him to Miami with a 6 pack of Dos Equis and a government pension."  
I stared at him for a moment. "Is that how you Americans behave?"  
"What? The beer and pension? Its a weird circumstance. It doesn't happen so much I assume, but Sam did a lot for the government and when it came down to it, they asked what he wanted and he wanted Beer, Miami and an endless supply of little blue pills. So, thats what they gave him."  
"No... I mean... Sleeping with your bosses wife. Is that how you Americans behave?"  
"Oh..." He thought abouut it. "Uh... yeah... kinda... some of us."  
"Us?"  
"Them. Not necessarily me."  
"You?"  
"Sam." He stated. "But he didn't know she was his bosses wife. He just slept with some lady who happened to be unfaithful."  
I nodded. "Sam is my best friend."  
I nodded again.  
"He had no idea I was in Ireland. He was as shocked as I was when he saw me."  
"He cost me $20,000."  
"He's sorry."  
"Is he though?"  
He didn;t hesitate. "My second favorite person on the planet." I noted that his hair had grown out. In Ireland, he didn't let his hair grow longer than a buzz but he had a full head, parted down the side and slicked down. It was sexy. Everything about this Michael was sexy.  
"What?" He noticed me checking him out.  
"I never thought I would like you in... cargo pants..."  
"And?" I shook my head. "I... do... like them... on you... enough to want them off of you, at least."  
He smirked. "They are... constricting... but we have explaining to do."  
"One of us does." I sneered.  
"Tom said to find out who was making and selling bombs. I stayed because I knew it was you who was making bombs. I didn't tell Tom because I knew you weren't selling the bombs. I didn't know who was selling them, but I knew it wasn't you. I was given orders to leave and they would send me back when they could get more intel. I said no. They pulled the lease on the apartment in Dublin... so I rented one in Belfast. I was gonna have you move in with me and I was gonna tell you, honestly... but then intel came in." He breathed. "They thought it was Sean."  
"He'd never." I was shocked.  
"I know that too. But they were sure it was him, so I was left to wonder if you would take his side or mine. I was worried if I told you who I was, it would be a conflict of interest, so I waited some more. I thought when we took him down, I could tell you, because I knew you were a good person and you would protect Sean right up until you found out he was blowing up thousands of innocents. I was afraid that you'd leave if I took part in arresting him, though." He shook his head again and I finally noticed the tears in his eyes. "I... was so stuck. It was so scary."  
I moved my chair closer to his placed a hand on his.  
"You were... my whole world and you still are. It's just so devastingly harsh that it had to be this way. I wanted to tell you, Fi. I swear."  
"I understand, Michael." I ran my fingers through his hair to soothe the turmoil out of his eyes.  
"Anyway. It was almost over. I got word that it wasn't Sean but they had sorted it out. I guess the man responsible had been blown up in Serbia so he was no longer a threat. I was waiting for word that I could tell you. I sat up all night, waiting for Tom to call and say the coast was clear."  
"That was 2 nights before..."  
"Yeah. that was the night you woke up and I was in the livingroom, Staring at my phone. Well, he never called that night or the next day. I heard the next night that he had an associate who was his partner who was still in Ireland and we needed to neutralize him. I went out one night with a sniper in hopes I could end it."  
"That was when I locked myself out?"  
"Yes." He sighed.  
I stood up and sat in his lap, trying to calm him.  
It worked well because he visably relaxed after inhaling at my neck. "You locked yourself out, so I had to wait one more night. I was so ready to finish it and tell you everything. I wanted you to move in with me. At my real home... in Miami."  
"Sunshine." I commented.  
"Right... Sunshine." He looked destroyed. "I got the call 3 hours after we fell asleep that someone had outed me as an American spy and I needed to either kill him or be killed. So, I had to leave. They sent a SWAT team to kill the Traitor and I was sent home, told well done. You did it."  
"I thought you didn't want me anymore."  
"I could never... ever stop wanting you Fi." He ran his shaking hands up and down my sides. "I love you."  
"Yeah. I love you too and thats whats crazy."  
He laughed and buried his face in my hair.

I settled into the shower and felt the weight of the evening evaporate. I already felt about a thousand times better after having Michael back and having answers. I couldn't really think of any inconsistancies in his story. That led me to believe him because with a story that immaculate, I had expected at least one inconsistancy. I was waiting for it to not add up so I could have peace with the idea that Michael was and is a liar. From the start, he lied. He wasn't lying now though. I knew it.  
I lathered my hair in shampoo and heard Michael talk to Tom Card in hushed tones. It wasn't that he didn't want me to hear. I think it was more he didn't want any other hotel guests to hear. I washed the shampoo out and continued with conditioner. The cheap conditioner from the hotel smelled like prison soap and I squinted at the fragrance of the body wash. "This shit reaks." I said, sure that Michael was listening. He was careful to check the hotel room and clear the bathroom before he'd let me shower. He made me leave the door open slightly in case I needed him.  
I wasn't gonna argue that, but he still insisted with the fact that it was nothing he hadn't seen. That was true... sort of... McBride knew my body better than I knew it myself. He had seen and kissed and touched and licked every inch of me. But this Michael felt different. I blushed in his presence even when I was completely dressed. I felt shy. He seemed confident in a different way than McBride had been. McBride was childlike in his reckless confidence. This Michael was sure. He was professional. He was confident not because he was reckless, he was confident because of his abilities. I wanted him to look at me and want me... and I thought he did... but it wasn't like McBride wanting me. He looked at me like I was a little girl. And he called me baby, I realized.  
"Michael?"  
"Hold on, Tom." He said as he entered the bathroom with a hand over his eyes. "Is it safe?"  
I didn't repond to that question. "How old are you?"  
He laughed. "Figured that one out, did you?"  
"Michael." I said.  
"I'll call you back, Tom." He hung up the phone and put it in his pocket, his right hand still covering his eyes.  
"Why are you covering your eyes?"  
"I... I..." He huffed. "I can't decide which question to answer."  
I didn't help.  
"I'm 30." He stated.  
I breathed out. "Your reaction to the question had me thinking it would be 40s." I laughed. "30 isn't that far off from what you told me."  
"I'm a 30 yr old American spy, Fi. You are a 23 year old irish bomb maker."  
"I thought you were a 23 year old irish criminal."  
"Yeah."  
"That is actually... that adds up, I guess."  
"How so?"  
"Oh, God! Michael, put your hand down, this is so weird."  
He lowered his hand and sighed, checking me out quickly and discreetly. "Sorry. Go on."  
"I just had always thought that you... were child like."  
"I worked really hard to seem that way."  
"When we fought, you seemed... like an adult. Like you were my boss, chastising me or something."  
"Yeah, well, when we fought, I was... me." He said. "Less fun."  
"Less... young and care free."  
I nodded.  
"Another thing is that the last month has aged me significantly. Not seeing you every day... Tom said I have wrinkles." He smiled.  
"Yeah, I could see that." I agreed, leaning out of the shower to see the frown lines forming. "You look young, Michael. Don't worry so much."  
He grabbed my soaking wet breast as it was still out of the shower. "I feel... young."  
"Is that right, Michael?" I grabbed his shirt, soaking it.  
"You can still call me daddy, though."  
I smirked. "Well, then you look good... Daddy." He responded by widening his eyes and pulling me out of the shower.  
I reached back and turned off the water and jumped, landing with me legs wrapped around him. He kissed me hard, walking confidently to the bedroom. My hair soaked the bed as he threw me down, making a place between my legs. I grabbed him by his hair. "Please." I begged as he remained just a breath away from my skin. "I love you, Fi."  
He stood to rip his clothes off and I noted the difference in his body too. The slight tan lines forming at his waist and the rough patches on his hands from working. He was bulkier... in a good way. Great way really. The weight that I'd lost, he had gained in muscle, lifting weights from the frustration of leaving me, he had told me. It showed. He was always strong, but McBride was strong in a way that a young college athlete was strong. Strong and slightly gangly... like he didn't know how to act in his own body. Michael was strong in the way that he belonged in this body. I sighed. "God." I breathed. "Daddy indeed."  
He smiled. "I love you, Fi." He repeated.  
"I love you too." I whispered. And I meant it.  
"Good." 


	11. I appreciate the sentiment

The flight to Miami was spent in comfortable conversation. I asked random questions about things that had puzzled me in Belfast and Michael answered. It was a private flight, but he had them provide Fettucini and truffles for me and blueberry yogurt for him. I asked questions and he began bribing me.  
"Fi... I answer a question, you take a bite." He said, handing me a water bottle.  
I sighed. "What about Sam?"  
"What about her?"  
"Who is she?"  
"she was my... fiancee." He sighed.  
"What the fuck?"  
He guided the fork to my mouth. "Sam... I told her early on in the mission that I was pretending to date a girl for a mission. She didn't care... because I did it all the time. I told her later that I had to sleep with the assett to protect my cover and she didn't believe it."  
"Because she knew you were full of shit." I commented as he guided the fork to my mouth again. "You would've slept with me the first night if Sean hadn't shown up."  
"Right. I didn't HAVE to have sex with you to protect the cover. I WANTED to make love to you, because... I was in love with you... from the very first night."  
I nodded.  
"So, I lied to her for a while. She was mad about the sex, but let it go because... what really could she do? So, I ducked her calls and texts for a month or so before that night. When we fought and I called her, she was shocked because that was my burner phone I called her from. She knew though. She had thought I think that I was calling to tell her that the mission was done, but I told her... well you heard the rest." He shrugged. "Please take another bite, Fi."  
I smiled and took another bite. "You're so different."  
He made a face. "How so?"  
"Everything about you is different. The way you walk and talk. You're not McBride and it's... just very... it's a really surprising turn of events."  
He held up a forkful of noodles again. "This is me." He shrugged a little. "You knew me. The real me. You still do. It's just... Mcbride, but older, tanner, more careful, with less of an accent."  
"You're still you." I agreed.  
"Mcbride better?" He asked, tasting a bite of my food.  
"Not so far."  
"So far?"  
"McBride and I did a lot of things together, Michael. I would need to evaluate your ability to perform those tasks before making an informed decision." I insisted.  
Michael looked around to see that no one was within listening distance. "Like... What?" He challenged.  
My cheeks redenned at his brutal gaze. "Well... at the hotel... you were very... thorough with our reunion sex."  
"Missionary position, as reunions should be." He commented without emotion.  
"Right... and it was magic... perfect. However, McBride and I had quite the repertoire."  
"Of what?"  
I looked at him harder to see if he was challenging me or if he truly didn't know what I was saying. He looked clueless.  
"You really don't remember, do you?" I asked, touching his chin with my thumb.  
"Oh no. I remember all of it. I've spent many nights, remembering you... most of them ending with my hand on my dick and your name on my lips."  
I raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?"  
"I've now said something dirty. Now you say something dirty." He smiled.  
"No. Not dirty... but, remember when we got home from blowing up the lawyers office in Belfast?"  
He nodded.  
"I hadn't gotten far enough away from the building before it exploded."  
He looked confused.  
"You were around front... I was in the alley, but I couldn't get away in time and it threw me like 10 feet to the gravel. I was knocked out in the alley for a few. When you called me to meet me in the car, is when I woke up. Before the explosion... we'd argued about how much c4 was too much c4 for that explosion. After it happened, you were so upset that I had used how much I thought to use and didn't take your advice that you didn't even realize the gravel on my clothes. And I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to admit you were right, so I pretended I was fine."  
"Fi." He reached out to touch my cheek.  
"Anyway, when we got home, I tried to take a shower because my body hurt so bad and You joined me... in the shower."  
"Why didn't you say something?"  
"Why didn't you notice?"  
That shocked him. "What?"  
"I just..." I breathed. "I didn't want to turn you away because you had such a hard day before that happened."  
"It doesn't matter."  
"I didn't want to turn you away, so I just went with it and hoped you would notice the scrapes on my palms or my bloody knees... but you didn't."  
He was quiet.  
"I don't know why I brought that up, Michael. I just... felt like you were being honest with me all day today, so I figured you deserved some honestly on my part. It was really fine, but I was kinda quiet that night... thats why."  
He frowned. "Thank you."  
"For what?"  
"Trusting me after what an unobservant jackass I'd been."  
I nodded. "You're welcome."  
"I'm sorry." He smiled a little.  
"You're forgiven."  
"Anything else?"  
"There's a lot, but I'm in no hurry to hash it all out on this plane. One of us might end up throwing the other out a window."  
"Well said." He agreed.  
"Thank you." I sighed and put the arm rest between us up so I could lay against his chest.  
"I love you, baby." He whispered against my hair.  
"I love you, too."

Tom card waited for us at the landing strip. It was a private airport inside a US Marine Corps Base in Miami. I felt like I was in the witness prtection program. Maybe I was.  
"Nice to meet you, Miss Glenanne." He said, shaking my hand gently.  
"You too." I smiled, still looking around. "Thank you so much."  
"Oh thank you." He laughed. "Leaving you might've been the worst decision we've ever made for Michael. He is officially whipped."  
I smiled at Michael, talking to a group of Marines.  
"What happens now?" I asked when Tom grabbed my arm and led me inside.  
"We are going to have a doctor check you out before anything. Make sure you're ok. After that... we will talk about a plan to take down Mr Ruiz. Until then, you will be under Mr Westen's protective thumb."  
"Can you get him, please?" I asked him as I sat on a chair in what looked like a nurses station.  
"I sure can." He said, turning to the man entering through another door.  
He was wearing blue colored camo and a stethescope around his neck.  
Tom regarded him like an employee. "Major, this is Fiona Glenanne. She is a former CIA Assett."  
The man nodded.  
"I'll fetch Westen." Tom said, leaving the room and closing the door on the way out.  
"Does everyone call each other by their last name?" I asked the man.  
He laughed. "Pretty much." He offered his hand and I shook it. "Dr Chris Leone."  
"Nice to meet you." I smiled.  
"This is my right hand man, Allen."  
The other man spoke while taking my blood pressure. "James Allen. Nice to meet you."  
"You too." I felt nervous as they worked around me.  
Michael didn't knock. "Hi baby." He said, caressing my cheek.  
I could never get used to that. "Hi..." I said nervously. "Stay." I said simply.  
He laughed. "Ok." The doctor offered him a stool and he sat on it. "Westen?" Chris said, looking to Michael. "Need anything? Feeling alright?"  
"I'm fine as long as Fiona's fine."  
I looked at Michael and tried to stay focused on him as the doctor worked.

"Don't focus on me, Fiona." James said as he readied the needle to go into my vein. "You look like you're about to hurl. Pay attention to something else. For example... look how great Westen looks in those pants. Mikeyyy... Heyyy" He tried, Laughing.  
I nodded and turned back to Michael. "They do look nice."  
"How do you feel about my wardrobe? Not what it was when we met, eh?" Michael asked.  
"I like it." I said as James silently worked. "I never thought I would, but its nice. The white shirts look good with the tan and the pants... I don't know. I don't like it when you wear pants... but I guess they're ok."  
He laughed."Cargo, though?"  
"Do you not like them?"  
"They're the best tactical decision."  
"I think they look good. Maybe try khaki next time. The Green is weird with the white shirt. I think I'll buy you a nice eggshell shirt and that would go well with the pants. But khakis for sure. There's probably great shopping in Miami. Can we go..." I trailed off.  
"We can go wherever you want."  
"Miami probably has great shopping."  
"We can shop if you want. I can't wait to bring you to a grocery store. It's so different from Ireland." He told me.  
"Does everyone in America like yogurt as much as this weirdo?" I asked James, gesturing to Michael. "No... I mean... I don't like yogurt."  
"I ate a lot of greek yogurt in Ireland." I offered.  
"Ok. Americans are obsessed with Greek yogurt." James laughed.  
"I don't like greek yogurt." Michael commented.  
"Regular yogurt is like sour milk." I replied.  
"It's so good."  
"No. No."  
Michael laughed. "I've been enjoying yogurt for 30 years Fiona. I'm not changing."  
"Do you actually like fettucini and truffles or was that a lie too?"  
James laughed with Michael. "I do. It's good." He squinted. "Not as much as you like it... but its ok. And another thing is that I've never tasted the dish from that one restaurant you said."  
My eyes widened.  
"Yeah. Ole Ma's. Never heard of it... but I read in a file that you loved it." He shrugged.  
"You bastard." I whispered. "You are such a lying sack of shit, Michael."  
James laughed, leaving the room.  
"I hate you." I said.

"I worked hard to find a dvd that I deemed acceptable for you."James said. "You will be out of here as soon as the results from your blood test come back."  
I smiled.  
"I searched several barracks and the best I could do... Jack Taylor, Season 1."  
I laughed. "It didn't have to be Irish."  
"Aye. But it did. We're pretending to be in Ireland Fiona." He said in what could only be described as a bogan scottish accent.  
"Aye is more Scottish than Irish... but I appreciate the sentiment."  
"Aye." He smiled and left the room.  
I pressed play and turned to Michael.  
"Hi, baby." He said, resting his chin on my shoulder.  
"Hi." I huffed.  
"You're so cute."  
"You're mom's so cute." I challenged jokingly.  
He groaned. "Oh, God... You and my mom are gonna get along a disturbing amount."  
I smiled. "yeah?"  
"Yeah. She's gonna love you."  
I sighed and turned to wath the TV.  
"Any complaints?" Michael asked after a few moments.  
I laughed. "No... I feel pretty lucky..." I shrugged.  
"Fi, you're never allowed to return to Ireland and we won't let you leave this government facility until they decide. Just tell me what you want. It's the least I can do."  
I sighed. "I'm cold."  
"One heated blanket coming right up." He left the room for a moment and then returned, draping a fresh blanket over my other blankets. "Anything else, my queen?"  
I pulled up the side of the blanket. "Join me?"  
He kicked his boots off and put his weapon on the counter before climbing into bed with me.  
I relaxed against his shirt, breathing in his scent and finally feeling ok again. I was finding that everytime I wasn't touching him, I felt wrong. It was manageable most of the time... but this infirmary or whatever it was was really making me feel less than at home. He rubbed circles on my back and kissed my hair softly.  
"How are you?" I whispered into his shirt.  
"I'm ok, baby, how are you?"  
"I want you."  
He chuckled. "I'm right here, Baby."  
"No... I mean, I want you."  
He didn't respond.  
"Daddy." I bit his shirt.  
"Oh, God." He laughed and took a deep breath. "Fi..."  
"I know." I said. "I'm just reminding you how much I always want you."  
He guided my hand down to the impressive bulge in his pants. "Feel how much I always want you?"  
I rested my hand there, just holding him for the sake of holding him. Staking a claim, maybe. I loved touching him. I had spent more than a month, not being able to touch him and I felt like I needed to make up for lost time. I wanted a hand in his shirt whenever we were in public and a hand in his pants whenever we were alone.  
He rested a hand on my arm and the other on my lower back and leaned his head back. "This show is weird."  
"Don't talk bad about Jack Taylor. I'll break up with you." I squeezed him a little.  
"Fucking tease." He commented. 


	12. A wash up and a drunk

"Give us a call if you need anything." Tom said before driving away. They had dropped us off at Michaels place and I was ready to lay down. Michael unlocked the gate and carried my bag upstairs. I looked at the black charger parked beside the stairs and sighed. "Is this yours?"  
"The Charger? Yeah, why?" He unlocked the door and I followed him in. "I like it." I told him, filing into the loft to collapse on the bed.  
"What the car or the loft?"  
I didn't answer. I was nearly asleep. He laughed lightly and came over to cover me with a blanket.  
I dozed off a few moments later only to be awoken by a booming voice.  
"Mikey! Welcome home!"  
"Shh, Sam, Fi's asleep." Michael chastised.  
"Not anymore." I sat up and instantly felt anger return when I saw Sam standing in the doorway. "You cost me a lot of money, you son of a bitch"  
"Oh god, Fiona, listen" Sam didn't look apologetic. "I was just doing my job."  
"Fi, relax." Michael put a hand on my chest, stopping me from approaching him.  
"And what kind of double standard is that? Mike and the fucking CIA cost you a lot of deals, and you're banging him, little lady."  
"Sam!" Michael threw a hand up to stop him.  
"You?!" I turned to Michael.  
"Fi, I'm sorry. We did a lot of really illegal things together. I let a lot of them go. Sometimes, I looked up the guys we were selling to and decided it was better if they didn't have the weapons."  
"You're acting like I'm... a criminal..." I started. "... And you aren't gonna like the way that ends for you."  
Mike sighed.  
"A spy is just a criminal with a government paycheck, Sister." Sam took my side. "Don't let him act like he isn't just the same as you and me."  
"Michael?" I asked.  
He looked at me. "Yea, Fi?"  
"You were about to give me an excuse for why its ok that you cost me... thousands..."  
He winced. "tens of thousands?" I asked.  
Another wince.  
"Michael!"  
"Listen, I don't really want to talk about it, but lets just say if the CIA weren't so uptight... you'd be in a different tax bracket." He sat down and sighed. "But hey, listen, remember, this is about Sam, right now. He cost you a lot of money, too."  
Sam and I both stared at Michael, surprised.  
"He really paints a picture, doesn't he?" Sam asked.  
"Help me find a guy who will sell me some c4, and we'll let bygones be bygones?" I offered Sam an olive branch.  
"I might know a guy." He smiled. "Use my name and he'll give you a deal."  
"I knew I'd like you." We bumped knuckles. "So, Michael... why don't you tell me how you cost me a lot of money."  
"I'd cause a car accident, or plan a police car at the meet, or contact the buyer to cancel and if none of that worked, Tom Card would just arrange for the buyer to be arrested."  
I stared at him for a long moment. "You couldn't arrange for them to be arrested after I had their money?"  
"It's illegal arms dealing, Fi!" He argued. "The rules are simple and I played it pretty fast and loose with the rules for you."  
I looked at him without blinking. "What is it with you and lying?"  
"Spies." Sam shrugged. "You're not a spy, though?" I asked Sam.  
He shook his head. "Just a wash up and a drunk." Michael suggested.  
"Hey!" Sam looked at him, betrayed.  
"You are." "Yeah, but... cheap shot."

"Mikey, I got a job as soon as you have time. Let me know." Sam said before leaving that night.  
"We can do a job." Michael offered.  
Sam looked between us. "Ok. Want to meet at Carlitos tomorrow and we'll talk it over?"  
"See you there." Michael said casually.  
Sam left and I turned to Michael. "I don't hate him nearly as much as I thought I would."  
"I knew you two would get along." He said, putting the leftovers in the fridge. "How are you feeling?"  
"Like I want to curl up in bed with you."  
He smiled. "I think I can manage that."  
I changed into one of his shirts while he checked the locks on the doors and windows. "We gotta buy you some clothes." He stated.  
"I like wearing yours." I joked.  
"Yeah... and I like to see you in them but they arent as appropriate for the outside world as I would like." He stripped down to boxers and climbed into bed behind me.  
"You like seeing me in your clothes?" I pressed my back against him.  
"I mostly like you naked... but when you wear my clothes... I don't know... it's sexy."  
"I like wearing your shirts."  
"I could fit three of you in there." He wrapped an arm around my front and ran a hand up my leg. His hand stopped at my underwear. "What is this?" He started pulling them down. "This shirt your wearing... its really one that goes best with nothing underneath it."  
"Is that right?" I asked, scooting my now naked backside against his groin.  
"Yes, Baby." He threw the underwear across the room and replaced his hand between my legs. "Now you sleep." "I love you, Michael."  
"I love you, too, baby."

The morning sun shone past the window in the kitchen and announced the arrival of the next day. I sighed and rolled over, turning to rest my head back on Michael's chest. "Good morning." He said.  
"Hi." I whispered.  
"Shower?" He asked.  
"Yes please." I followed him to the bathroom and brushed my teeth while he started the shower and undressed. When I turned to him to take off his shirt, he stilled my hands.  
"Allow me." He said, pulling the shirt torturously slow over my head. "So... beautiful." He whispered, pressing his lips to my collarbone. "I love you, baby."  
"I love you, too." I wraped my arms around his neck so he could carry us both into the shower. "Did you get my shampoo and conditioner?" I smiled.  
"I actually bought this a month ago." He held up the soap in question. "It smells like your hair... so..." He shrugged. I rested my head on his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist. "I missed you so much."  
"I missed you, too, Fi." He leaned down to kiss the top of my head. "Where is my blanket, by the way?"  
"What blanket?"  
I lathered shampoo in my hair while he played with my nipples. "The throw one that was on the couch in Belfast."  
"Oh. Yeah, I stole that." He admitted, bending down to run a soapy loufah along my legs while I put conditioner in my hair. I sighed in contentment while he caressed my body gently. I wondered how it was possible to be so in love with someone all over again. This man turned my whole life upside down a few weeks ago and if you asked me a week ago, he was either Satan, or never real in the first place. Then again... that wasn't this man at all. It was Michael McBride... the man I loved to fight with. The man I hated to love. This is a different Michael. He kissed my forehead after I rinsed my hair once more and switched sides of the shower with him. "I love you." I whispered.  
He smiled.  
I knelt when he closed his eyes to wash his face, swallowing him whole.  
He made a strangled noise, throwing a hand behind me to hold himself up against the shower wall and placed the other in my hair to hold my head in place. "Oh, fuck." He sighed, thrusting into my throat.  
I looked up at him while he adjusted his hands so one was one the back of my head and the other was holding my jaw. He thrust hard and then soft, alternating from staring into my eyes and closing his eyes in overwhelming pleasure. His breath came out in short gasps. "Thats... ah... so good, Fi." I watched his face and wondered again how it was possible to be this in love with someone. I wanted to do this for the rest of my life. This exactly. His pleasure was so satisfying to me. I felt whole. I had never felt this way with any of my other boyfriends. I had given head on special occasions, but I always found that it was just that... a special occasion. Armand said when I was 19 that I was far too pretty to be on my knees for anyone. He told me a girl this sexy doesn't ever have to give head. I was grateful for him saying that because otherwise I might grow up feeling like I owed men something. Instead I had a healthy amount of confidence. Enough to slap Kyle in the face once when he tried to push me onto my knees.  
But this was so different. I wanted to do this. I didn't feel like I owed it to Michael... but I wanted him to feel how much I loved him. I tried to show it in every step that I took and every word I said, but this was one way I knew that he knew. When I blew McBride, he would back me into a wall and thrust into my throat so hard, I had a raspy voice for a week. That was probably just the youth. He was younger and more playful. But more reckless. Michael was the complete opposite of reckless. He was careful in the way he held my jaw but the hand in my hair was there to carefully make sure he got what he wanted. His expression was gentle, but his thrusts were aggressive. Some thrusts were a little too aggressive but his soft words made up for it. McBride was a silent lover, save for some groans. Michael was... encouraging... maybe. Every thrust was capitalized by a sweet reassurance. He said my name a lot too. "Fi" "Baby" "Babygirl" all of it. He was vocal.  
I was brought back to the present by Michael thrusting hard and holding himself in the back of my throat. My eyes watered when he came hard.  
"Jesus." He breathed.  
I stood up.  
He looked like he had never been so surprised in his life. "Wow... you're so fucking incredible."  
I smiled at him, a little confused. "I love you."  
"I love you so fucking much, wow."  
I stepped out of the shower and dried off with a towel, letting his finish washing up. I had very little clothes with me, but I looked through what I did have. Sam mentioned a job, so I picked out a pair of jeans and a tank top. Michael stepped out of the bathroom and yanked the bra out of my hands.  
"No bra." He said, throwing it across the room.  
"I'm wearing a pretty thin shirt, Michael"  
"So, what? It's Miami, Fi." He slipped a pair of boxers on and dressed in jeans and a tee. "I don't think anyone is gonna stare while I'm standing next to you. I just like the distraction."  
I shrugged and decided to listen. I slipped a pair of stilettos on and we rejoined in the car, holding hands on the way to Carlito's.  
"What kind of... jobs... do you guys do?" I asked Michael. "Is this gonna be anything like Ireland?"  
"Depending on what the client's problem is." He shrugged. "The jobs are usually a little more legal... than Ireland. Still not legal... but more legal than Ireland. They often involve a gun. Sometimes, it's just an innocent person gets themselves marked for death, by accident and then we protect them. Sometimes its about security. It's about security usually to be quite honest with you."  
I nodded. "You'll like it, I think. You'll be good at it, I'm sure. You were always really good... at tactical... stuff."  
I narrowed my eyes at him. "That means a lot... coming from a spy."  
"Hey, spies are the most tactically aware people on the planet."  
"And a spy tells me I'm good at the tactical stuff."  
"You are." "So are you."  
He looked at me after parking the car outside a bar. "Ready?"  
I nodded once. "Let's do it." 


End file.
